


Il Gatto Con Gli Stivali

by quiteanerdling



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Animal Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Puss in Boots Elements, porn prompt, very mild and only at the beginning but please be aware
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6029266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiteanerdling/pseuds/quiteanerdling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bull saves a small black cat he has no idea how much trouble he's in for...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Il Gatto Con Gli Stivali

**Author's Note:**

> This little story was originally written for a [Wham! Splat! Porn!](http://wham-splat-porn.tumblr.com/) prompt and published on October 18, 2015. I deleted it along with most of my other work, but I've decided to clean it up and repost it because it's probably my favorite stand alone Adoribull piece I've ever written.

Bull was fine with killing animals when it was for food, but he did it fast, and as clean as he could. He didn’t like torture, when it could be avoided, and there was sure as shit no reason to torture innocent animals. When he found a group of human kids, probably early teens, tormenting a black cat, it pissed him off enough he decided to give them a little taste of their own medicine. Not that he had to touch a single one of them, the looming presence of a giant Qunari with an axe and an eyepatch was more than enough, especially once he threatened to rip their guts out with his bare hands if they touched another animal. The shrieking as they ran away was probably more satisfying than it should have been.

The cat itself was looking pretty pitiful, back leg swollen, thin enough Bull could see its ribs, bits of fur missing and red sores on its skin. It was wet for reasons he really didn’t want to know and had collapsed on the ground the minute the humans had run off. Bull sighed, looking down at the little creature with sympathy. Would an elfroot potion even help a cat? Seemed kind of pointless to rescue the thing and then not try and help take care of it. Going to one knee, he reached out, gently stroking one finger between its ears before reaching down to pick it up.

The cat bit him.

oOo

“Chief, why is your bag meowing? Also squirming?”

“It’s a long story, Krem. Go get Stitches and Dalish.”

oOo

By the time they headed to their tents that night, Bull was starting to think the human brats might have had the right idea. He had a lot of scratches and three deep bites that Stitches insisted on cleaning out with something green, smelly and painful. The cat had tried to run out of the camp, but his bum leg kept him from getting far. The Chargers had thought it was all hilarious, probably because Bull was the only one the cat managed to maul. Eventually Dalish had returned from scouting with Skinner and cast a sleep “arrow” on the little furry terror with her “bow.”

Stitches had grumbled about not being a vet, but Krem had pointed out if he could keep an animal the size of Bull healthy then a cat shouldn’t be a problem. Luckily it seemed like the back leg was only sprained, not broken, and the other cuts and scrapes had been treated with a little elf root salve a lot less painful looking that the shit he used on Bull. When the cat was finally still they established that “it” was most definitely an he, and that he had white paws and, swear to Koslun, a little mustache formed of white fur under his pink nose.

Bull took the cat into his tent that night at the insistence of the rest of the Chargers - if Bull got to be the only one with his own tent, he got to be the one to sleep with the demon cat. He tried to pretend their nickname for the cat didn’t freak him out a little. He set the sleeping animal down on top of his folded pants so it wasn’t right on the hard ground, eyeing it suspiciously. It would probably be gone in the morning and it would all just be another story for them to tell over and over again around the camp fire.

oOo

In the morning the cat wasn’t gone - he was curled up on Bull’s chest looking for all the world like he owned it, purring contentedly. He had pale, blue grey eyes, and Bull wasn’t really sure if that was normal for a cat.

The Chargers named him Demon and he rode in a sling across Bull’s chest to keep him warm, and because Bull was a fucking sucker.

It was a week after they found him, their first night they managed to stay in an inn, while on their way to do a job for an Orlesian marquis that Demon talked for the first time.

oOo

“This is deeply unnecessary, not to mention entirely unbecoming of a grown adult.” The cat said, dodging Bull’s axe for the third time. “I’m not a demon you great idiot ox!”

“You’re a talking fucking cat, there’s no other explanation.” Why was it so hard to hit a small, moving object? Really he should have let the humans drown the thing.

“I told you it’s a _curse_!” The cat’s voice was deep, male, and with the slightest hint of an accent Bull couldn’t place. There was no way it wasn’t a demon.

“Chief, what in the Void-” Krem cut off as the cat ran directly through his feet, mewling pitifully, and Bull had to draw himself up short to keep from splitting his lieutenant in two. Krem looked at him in utter horror.

“This is not what it looks like.”

oOo

“You’ve got the Chargers convinced I’m nuts, so thanks for that.” Bull told the demon gruffly. They’d reached a stalemate. The demon had the Chargers fooled and refused to talk in front of them. They protected the demon from Bull because they were convinced he must have hit his head or something. It was all really fucking annoying. They were in a tent again, and the demon had snuck in while Bull was still writing reports for the Inquisitor.

“Look, I tried to explain, but you’re the one who decided it would be a perfectly reasonable idea to just go swinging a giant axe around. How do you even carry that thing without inducing severe back strain?” The demon delicately cleaned a paw, managing to look at Bull curiously. It was all just so damn weird. Bull just grunted in response.

“Fine, be ridiculous if you must, but understand I am certainly no happier about this situation than you are. I can speak to you because you rescued me, and let me assure you, that when I dreamed of being rescued from this predicament, a smelly, giant, axe wielding Qunari madman was _not_ what I had in mind.”

“Yeah, well life is shit like that sometimes. So you mean you can’t talk to the others even if you want to?” The demon padded closer and Bull scowled when it hopped up into his personal space and curled up on the end of his cot. He wanted to pick it up and put it back on the ground but that would involve touching, and he wasn’t touching that thing unless it was with a weapon.

“That is correct, and it’s reassuring to know you’re capable of learning.” He was being condescended to by a demon in the shape of a cat. It almost made him want to present himself at Par Vollen for re-re-educating.

“Look, just tell me what I have to do to get rid of you.” The demon perked up, and while he was pretty sure cats couldn’t smile, even if they were demons, this one seemed to smirk.

“I need a pair of boots.”

oOo

The demon had been extremely specific about the boots, and Bull suspected a lot of it was just the creature being a smug asshole, but Bull wanted his life unoccupied by demons, so when he found a cobbler he handed over a very specific order. The cobbler looked it over carefully, and then looked back at The Iron Bull.

“Messere, I’m afraid these will not fit you.”

“Don’t worry, they’re not for me, they’re for the cat.”

Sometimes Bull couldn’t resist fucking around with humans, especially Orlesians. The demon, perched on his shoulder, let out a noise that Bull was sure was a laugh.

oOo

“They aren’t going to fit you either, you know that right? You’re wearing a fucking cat.” They were in a different inn, but it felt a lot like the first one - roadside inns were pretty much the same in any part of Thedas.

“I am not _wearing_ a cat.” The demon said testily, sniffing at the black dyed, halla leather boots. “I currently _am_ a cat, because I am cursed, and not actually a demon, which I have told you repeatedly.”

The demon was doing some kind of weird, cat looking gymnastics to get its back feet into the boots, and Bull was not going to admit, even to himself, that it was actually incredibly cute. Demons were not cute.

“There!” It exclaimed. Bull watched it skeptically - right until the rush of some immensely powerful magic went racing across his skin, flashing light so bright that his vision went white for a minute, leaving him blinking spots from his vision.

The demon cat was gone. In its place was a man, and Koslun’s balls he was hot. Also naked - except for the boots. Miles of bronze skin, black hair, and those same silver blue eyes. He had a mustache and a smile of triumph on his incredibly gorgeous face.

“Huh… you know I was _really_ not expecting a desire demon.” Bull commented, trying to get his thoughts aimed above the waist.

The demon laughed, giving him a full lipped smile that revealed perfect white teeth.

“I can’t decide if I’m flattered or insulted, but since I’m human for the time being, and grateful for that, I’ll go for flattered. My name is Dorian Pavus.”

“As in House Pavus of the Magisterium?” Bull asked suspiciously.

“That would be the one.” Dorian responded, the quality of his smile changing to something like ironic.

“Oh shit, you’re not a demon, you’re an actual ‘Vint.”

“Yes, I’ve been trying to tell you that.” The other man said, exasperated.

“I’d rather you were a demon. Or a magical cat.”

Dorian drew himself up, shoulders back, lifting his chin and looking down his nose at Bull.

“I would apologize for disappointing you, but I’ve disappointed far better men.”

“If _you_ disappointed them, they must have had really terrible taste…” The words popped out of Bull’s mouth before he realized what he was going to say, leaving them both momentarily stunned. Which was how he found out that Dorian blushed a very pretty deep red over the smooth brown of his skin, and the blush went all the way down his chest.

“Nice…” Bull added with a grin. Dorian looked as if he wished he still had a tail so that he could swish it angrily. He turned his back pointedly, but considering his ass was as nice as the rest of him, Bull didn’t think it really counted as a punishment. “So you got boots, and you’re human again, does this mean we’re quits?”

Dorian sighed and Bull saw his shoulders sag a bit.

“It’s… a tad more complicated than that.” He looked over his shoulder at Bull, arching a single eyebrow in question. “Might it be possible for me to get some additional clothes before we have our own personal history hour?”

“All right.” Bull replied thoughtfully. “Stay here and try not to enslave anyone with blood magic while I’m gone.”

The indignant noise that Dorian made reminded Bull of the way he had hissed as a cat. He told himself it wasn’t cute, but he knew he was lying.

oOo

Clothing proved a challenge. Turned out the humanity thing wasn’t permanent - Dorian was only human while he was wearing the boots, which made getting pants on impossible, unless he wore a spare pair of Bull’s. He’d flatly said he’d rather be a cat again. Eventually they had given him one of Grim’s tunics which was long enough (barely) to cover the important bits while the Chargers all crowded into Bull’s quarters to get the whole story.

It had taken Dorian removing and putting the boots back on before the rest believed them, and then Krem had had to be talked down from killing the Altus on principle, yelling about how he had let Dorian share his bedroll. Dorian looked a bit embarrassed but took it all in stride, with as much dignity as a man in nothing but a tunic and boots could.

“I don’t think it will surprise any of you to find that blood magic is to blame for my predicament.” There was a growl from Krem that did Bull proud, and shrugs or nods from everyone else. “I’ll spare you all the sordid details, but the fact of the matter is, the requirements were made to be strange enough that my… nemesis assumed I would never get free.”

Bull knew there was a story in the pauses between Dorian’s words, but he wasn’t not going to push a defenseless man to tell painful tales, even if he was a ‘Vint. A ‘Vint who’d bit him, repeatedly, and not the fun way.

“The Iron Bull, in saving my life, allowed me speech, and the acquisition of the boots, made specifically for me, has restored some of my humanity. In order to completely break the curse I need to return the service in kind.”

“You need to buy the Chief boots?” Krem asked, perplexed.

“He needs to save my life.” Bull answered, looking intently at Dorian, who nodded, blushing again.

“I suppose it’s lucky for him that you risk your life on a regular basis then, isn’t it?” Stitches volunteered.

oOo

Dorian travelled in human form with the Chargers as they spent the next week on their journey to their contact location with the Marquis de Carabas. They had acquired some Southern style mage robes for him, which he scoffed at, and Dalish loaned him one of her spare “bows” which seemed to charm him. Turned out the ‘Vint was a necromancer, because of course Bull would end up with a cursed Tevinter mage who specialized in the creepiest fucking magic this side of blood magic.

At night Dorian abandoned the boots reluctantly to curl up on Bull’s bedroll. It was the easiest way to share space, and weird as it was, Bull kind of liked the feeling of that small, warm weight on his chest. He stroked sleepily between Dorian’s ears, trying not to think about how weird it all was, and let the sound of purring lull him to sleep.

He woke the last night before their arrival to find the weight missing from his chest. He sat up to find Dorian sitting on the floor, naked but for his boots. Bull’s night vision, even with just the one eye, was better than a human’s, and he could see the telltale glitter of tears on Dorian’s cheeks.

The mage didn’t protest when Bull reached down and pulled him up onto the cot, tucking him naked and shivering against his own bare side. Dorian trembled, and it wasn’t from the cold. Bull ran his fingertips over the smooth skin of the other man’s back, keeping his touch light and his rhythm slow. Dorian shuddered and then went limp against him, breath puffing hot against Bull’s chest.

“How long were you like that?” Bull asked softly, continuing his gentle strokes as if Dorian were still a small, scared animal.

“Two years, I think? It was… rather difficult to keep track of time. I was…” He made a choking noise, pained, small, and Bull pulled him in tighter until he was practically draped over the Bull’s chest. “I was losing myself when you found me. It was hard to remember what I really was, I’m not sure how long it would have been before I really was just an animal.”

Bull shifted so he could plant a kiss against Dorian’s hair. It was nearly as soft as the black fur had been.

“It was my father who did it.”

Bull froze, stomach sinking. Dorian’s voice was full of so many emotions it was hard to parse - anger, sadness, defiance, even embarrassment.

“That’s pretty fucking shitty.” Bull said, still keeping his voice low and his hands gentle, even though he suddenly really wanted to rip apart a certain Tevinter magister with his bare hands. Dorian gave a choked laugh that was barely not a sob.

“Rather, yes. I’m afraid that my desire to be true to myself was not well received. I was born to breed more mages for the Pavus line, not fuck men in brothels, or Maker forbid, want to be with one publicly.”

“Wait… your father used blood magic to curse you because you like _men?_ ” Even knowing how fucked up the Imperium was, sometimes Bull could still be surprised by the sheer madness of them. He hated surprises.

“Well, not exactly, more because I refused to pretend I don’t. They had a lovely girl chosen for me to marry and be miserable with, in approved Tevinter fashion.”

“OK, that’s _very_ fucking shitty. ‘Vints are really terrible.” Dorian chuckled and this time tears weren’t hidden in it, though he pressed his forehead harder against Bull’s sternum.

“I would very much like to argue that, but I suppose we rather are at times.” They were quiet then, except for the sound of large, calloused fingers over smooth skin. Dorian’s breathing had become so easy that Bull wondered if he had nodded off. Then the mage was moving, shifting, until he was straddling the Bull, perfect ass pressed against Bull’s cock, which was taking sudden interest in the proceedings. Bull’s breath caught as he looked up at Dorian, the magnificent planes and curves of his body outlined in the moonlight seeping through the tent walls.

“You saved me, The Iron Bull.” Dorian said simply, shifting forward so he was braced with his hands on Bull’s shoulders. Bull swallowed, wrapping his hands around those slender hips, thumbs gliding along the deep groove of Dorian’s iliac crest.

“You don’t owe me this Dorian. You don’t owe me _anything_. I’d free you from the curse right now if I could.”

“I know… which is why I want this. It’s been over two years since someone touched me Bull. Please.” The breathy desperation of Dorian’s please went straight to Bull’s cock, which was quickly reaching full hardness. He pulled Dorian down until their mouths could touch, the first kiss warm and soft and nearly chaste despite the closeness of their naked bodies. Then Dorian whimpered and Bull felt his control fray.

Muttering in Qunlat he wrapped one heavy arm around Dorian’s back and quickly flipped them so that the smaller man was pressed under him, his own cock pressing against Bull’s belly. Bull ran his hand down Dorian’s flank to his hip, then up and over his bent leg, laughing when he reached the edge of the leather boots.

“I have to leave them on.” Dorian said apologetically.

“I figured.” Bull said. “It’s kind of hot actually.”

Dorian snorted derisively but didn’t comment, simply reaching up to grab Bull by the horns and bring him down for another kiss, this one growing frantic as Bull slipped his tongue into Dorian’s mouth, moving in tandem with his hips, which were slowly bucking against the mage, his cock rubbing in the cleft of that flawless ass.

The cot wasn’t a great option, but at least it was sturdy enough to support their weight. Dorian was still a bit thin from life on the road, and it worked in their favor. Dorian provided a tiny mage light for Bull while he rummaged through his pack to find oil, grinning at the ‘Vint’s slightly scandalized expression when he saw the size of the bottle Bull kept. The light and Dorian’s breath both went out with a gasp when Bull wrapped a warm, slick hand around Dorian’s cock and began to stroke, gently but firmly.

Lowering his head carefully, mindful of his horns, Bull pressed his mouth against the juncture of Dorian’s neck and shoulder, kissing and licking, lulling the man into complacency before biting down hard. Dorian keened and strained under him, breath coming faster and faster, Bull’s name on his lips like a prayer. Slowing his hand slightly, Bull pressed his lips against Dorian’s, less a kiss and more a sharing of air.

“Tell me what you want, Dorian.” He instructed, voice low and rough with arousal.

“You, inside me, please, please, _now_.” Bull laughed and nipped Dorian’s bottom lip, earning him an indignant huff. Then he slid his hand off Dorian’s cock, over his balls, pressing against his perineum and driving a moan from Dorian that made Bull’s own cock twitch. Oh how he wanted to fuck that perfect ass, wanted to feel it hot and tight around him as the other man fell apart beneath him. _Two years…_ he reminded himself, determined to go slow, to be careful, despite all the signals from his body telling him to throw those booted legs over his shoulder and fuck Dorian until the cot broke.

He poured more oil onto his hand, clumsier now, but still slow, sliding the pad of one finger over the puckered flesh of Dorian’s hole. The sounds Dorian was making were amazingly hot - moans, whimpers, little sobbing cries of pleasure denied for far too long. Bull pressed one finger all the way in, oh so slowly. Dorian arched and strained for a few desperate breaths before bearing down to let him in. He was so damn tight Bull had to bite back a loud groan, determined to stay focused on Dorian. He shifted his finger in and out slowly and gently, exploring until he found the little bump that signaled the bundle of nerves he was looking for. Dorian _wailed_ when he touched it, and Bull knew he’d get no end of crap from Krem in the morning, but he didn’t give a damn.

Bull gently pressed in another finger, peppering kisses against the sweat dampened skin of Dorian’s forehead, murmuring softly to him, encouragement, praise, the odd endearment. Dorian threw his head back, baring his neck in blatant invitation and Bull accepted, pressing wet kisses across brown skin, sucking hard so there would be no denial of his touch in the morning. Bull lost track of time, his own pleasure subsumed by his desire to give Dorian everything he needed and wanted. When he carefully slid a third finger in beside the first two, Dorian began babbling in Tevene, and Bull smiled, satisfied.

 _“Do you want me inside you?”_ Bull growled, his own Tevene a bit rusty, but good enough for what he needed.

 _“Yes, oh Maker, yes!”_ Dorian had been clutching desperately at the furs beneath him, but he threw his arms around Bull at that, possessive and desperate, scoring sharp nails into Bull’s grey skin and making him growl deep in his throat. He pulled his fingers out of Dorian, who made a protesting noise, reaching down to grab the bottle of oil. His fingers were slick and he gave another growl, this time of frustration, before he managed to pull the cap off with his teeth. He poured oil directly over his straining cock, then tossed the bottle aside, utterly careless of the contents. He took a few moments to rub the viscous substance over his full length, coating himself thoroughly.

“Fuck.” Bull muttered, switching back to common. He grabbed Dorian’s legs beneath his knees, spreading them wide so he could kneel between them, then drawing them close until the soft leather of Dorian’s boots pressed against the small of his back. Single eye closed in concentration he reached down to direct himself, brushing over the spasming rim of Dorian’s slick hole with his knuckle. Then he was lined up and pressing into the tight heat of Dorian with a moan, every muscle straining for control.

 _“More, more!”_ The command was in Tevene again, and Bull couldn’t help but laugh. Bossy little shit, even when he was out of his mind with pleasure. Bull shifted forward so his weight was on his forearms, pressed to either side of Dorian’s shoulders. Then he began to follow Dorian’s order, but at his own pace, moving slowly until he bottomed out, Dorian’s balls and rigid cock pressed between them. Bull leaned down just a bit more to take Dorian’s mouth with his own.

He kept his thrusts slow at first, torturously so as he gave Dorian time to adjust. He could feel the mage trembling under him, his whole body strung tight as a bow string, eyes closed and mouth hanging open, lips wet and swollen. Soon enough Dorian was digging his boot heels into Bull’s back for leverage, thrusting up to meet him. Those long nails of his were pressing sharply into Bull’s skin, the nip of pain only making the pleasure stronger. Dorian’s eyes snapped open suddenly, seeming to flash with the same eerie reflection as a cat’s.

“Fuck me Bull, hard!” He had apparently remembered how to use Common to devastating effect.

Bull obliged, pulling nearly all the way out and then snapping his hips back against Dorian with a sound like a sharp slap. He picked up speed, bottoming out with each powerful thrust as Dorian sobbed under him, tears streaming from tight shut eyes. With a sharp intake of breath Dorian went rigid, tensing beneath him, mouth open in a silent shout as he came, hot spend shooting over his stomach and chest, splashing against Bull’s chest as well. Bull might have been impressed by the sheer volume if Dorian’s ass weren’t clenching tight and hot around him, pulling his own orgasm out of him after just a few more thrusts. He sank his teeth into the salty skin of Dorian’s shoulder to stifle his roar of pleasure.

They stayed still for a time, Bull holding himself up on arms that were starting to feel the strain of his weight. Dorian was clinging to him still, but gentle now, stroking in little circles over Bull’s back instead of clawing desperately. Bull shifted and pulled out carefully, and Dorian made a little whimper that was so sweet it tightened Bull’s chest. He pressed soft kisses to Dorian’s forehead and cheek.

“Sweetheart, can you let me up so I can find something to clean us off with?” He asked gently.

“Mmm…” Dorian said, pulling himself upwards to press a loose lipped kiss against the corner of Bull’s mouth. “I suppose.”

Bull chuckled, pulling off of Dorian with a groan. The mage made another tiny light, which made Bull smile. He pulled a clean rag out of his bag and knelt beside the cot, carefully cleaning Dorian’s own spend from his still heaving chest. He gently lifted one lean brown leg, softly cleaning his come from between Dorian’s cheeks, earning him a very attractive bit of squirming and a breathy “fuck.” He chuckled and wiped the last of the mess off his fingers, cock, and chest before manhandling Dorian so that he could get back into the cot. The mage made a couple soft noises of complaint and Bull rubbed his back gently in apology. They were both asleep in minutes.

oOo

When Bull woke, Dorian was a cat again, curled up on his own robes across the tent, and wouldn’t meet Bull’s eye.

oOo

The Marquis de Carabas had a darkspawn problem, which was not what the Chargers usually went in for, but with the Wardens off doing who the fuck knew what, the Inquisitor trusted Bull and his men to get the job done. They’d go into the man’s summer estate, clear out some genlocks, get paid, and head back to Skyhold. Maybe the Templars swarming around Skyhold could do something about Dorian’s curse. At least Barris didn’t seem the sort to Smite first and ask questions later.

Dorian had been distant and subdued through their meeting with the Marquis, still avoiding Bull’s considering gaze. Bull shrugged - the poor guy had spent two years as a cat, and he didn’t think being able to lick his own balls had been enough of a trade off to make it worth it. Dorian was bound to have some issues. And while Bull would be perfectly happy to fuck him again, on any imaginable surface he could ask for, he wasn’t stupid enough to think a one night stand was going to fix the fussy ‘Vint.

Other than a serious case of stink eye from Krem, none of the Chargers had commented. Bull strongly suspected that was for Dorian’s sake and not his, but he wasn’t complaining. He was a little sad about not getting to make pussy jokes though.

It was a half day’s trek to the Marquis’ estate, and they went on foot, not wanting to risk mounts going skittish at the scent of darkspawn. It wasn’t until they were on a small rise above the estate that they realized they might have bitten off a little more than they could chew.

The Marquis de Carabas had an _ogre_ problem.

oOo

The first ogre went down, if not easy, then at least with no serious casualties. Unfortunately they were still fighting the second ogre when a _third_ ogre appeared. They were rundown, bleeding, and out of mana. Also lyrium potions. Dorian was damn good in a fight, but he was out of practice and using a staff not made for him, not to mention still re-adjusting to walking on two legs.

Bull was riding the razor’s edge of his blood lust, blood thrumming loud and hot through his veins, drowning out his body’s injuries. Seeing his men in danger he did what he was built for - he attacked, heedless of his own safety.

He heard yelling behind him, thought he heard Dorian’s voice, but ignored it, charging the ogre and leaping, burying his great axe deep in the creature’s neck, making it bellow. Unfortunately the fucking thing’s neck was so thick it didn’t kill it. The ogre swatted Bull with a pained roar and sent him flying. He managed to hold on to his axe, tearing it from the creature’s neck and tossing it to the side before he could manage to decapitate himself with it when he hit the ground. He was going to hurt like hell if he lived, which didn’t seem terribly likely with the creature bearing down on him like death on two ugly legs. On the plus side he could see thick black blood spewing from the ogre’s neck. He must have pierced an artery when he wrested the axe out, so the Chargers would have a better chance of surviving.

He was desperately trying to make his body cooperate when he heard the sound of a very pissed off cat and saw a black and white streak go charging toward the ogre, grappling up the thing’s heavy thigh and tearing out as much flesh as he could. The ogre roared, probably more angry than pained, but reached for the cat, who was entirely too fast for the lumbering monster. _Could have told the ogre Dorian was a slippery pain in the ass._ Dorian, obviously feeling suicidal, continued to dart in and attack the darkspawn with nothing but his claws, determined to keep it distracted and away from Bull and the Chargers.

Dorian was holding his own, staying ahead of the pain maddened creature, when the world went sideways. Bull felt that eerie rush of magic he had felt the first time Dorian transformed, but stronger this time. It was so strong it knocked him on his ass with only a moment to cover his eyes before a flash of light like a gaatlok explosion went off.

When his vision cleared, Bull’s heart damn near stopped at the sight before him. The ogre was down, it’s whole front a mess of broken flesh from the impact of whatever magic had gone off. Far more concerning though, was Dorian, human again, completely naked, and unmoving on the ground. Bull pulled himself to his feet, chest tight with an emotion that made panic seem mild, stumbling to the unconscious mage. He looked up to check on the Chargers, who were all staring wide eyed from a safe distance.

“Dorian!” He growled. “Dorian, wake up!”

Bull’s words were rough but his hands were gentle as he reached down to press two fingers gently against Dorian’s neck to check for a pulse. His own heart was beating so loudly in his ears that it took him a moment to realize Dorian’s heart was still beating. He gave a shout of relief and pulled Dorian upright holding him close to his own blood spattered chest in a hug. He felt, more than heard Dorian cough and loosened his grip, giving him room to breath.

Dorian blinked up at him uncomprehendingly for a few moments, and then he smiled sweetly.

“I am so looking forward to wearing pants again.”

Bull laughed and kissed him.


End file.
